


Amárantos

by Pyre_Prism



Series: Five Nights at Freddy's: Unfading [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: 'missing scenes', Gen, uses headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyre_Prism/pseuds/Pyre_Prism
Summary: A peek into the darkness of the safe room in an old pizzeria, and a glimpse on the other side of the curtain... Everyone has their own story, even murderers.-------In truth, this is me playing around with 'missing scenes' for my favourite zombie cyborg rabbit. I will admit that I have yet to play the games, but... I've been absorbed by the lore enough to start working on my own interpretation. This fic may be revamped after I have fixed that 'oversight', but I'm pretty happy with it.
Series: Five Nights at Freddy's: Unfading [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545859
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	1. Waking

Even before a single memory of where he was or what he’d been doing returned to him, William was swimming in agony. Every inch of his body screamed in protest; stabbing, pulling, crushing, twisting, grinding… He was cold, too, but couldn’t muster up the strength to shiver. Movement on the whole seemed to be out of the question, he realised dully… not even his eyelids wanted to obey his commands.

**‘Identify.’**

The word broke through the whirling abyss and made everything else on his mind fade into the background, what little he could even begin to register clearly. It didn’t seem like he’d heard it, per se, but he could have sworn that it echoed around his brain as if someone had spoken directly into his mind.

**‘Identify or be erased.’**

He tried to growl, to grit his teeth… neither happened. Instead, William gathered and steeled himself as best as he could before responding. _“William Afton. Who are you?”_

**‘Searching… William Afton. Program author. Actor. Owner. Identity invalid. Alternative identity required.’** There was a pause, almost as if the ‘voice’ was thinking, before it continued with, **‘Own identity categorised as… Spring Bonnie.’**

Once again, he tried to move –just one muscle twitch would be enough– without any success. Spring Bonnie? He was ‘hearing’ the suit he was… wearing…

Night. Axe. Purple mask. Lure. Follow me. Lure. Empty corridors. Lure. Safe room. Lure. Destroy them. Pale faces. Trapped. Fear. Hide. Suit. Turn crank. Drip. Climb inside. Drip. Laugh. Drip. Snap. Pain. Blood. Shudder. Agony. Blackness.

It all came rushing back to him; the animatronics –his creations– had been acting strangely for some time, eerily watching their surroundings, seemingly bearing the spirits of the children he’d—

**‘Invalid execution. Abort.’**

A new pain lanced through his brain. _“A memory is invalid?!”_ he hissed back at the ‘voice’, irritation quickly smothering the discomfort. At least he’d figured out the main reason as to why his body hurt so much… He’d been foolish and hadn’t paid close enough attention. The springlocks inside the suit had to have failed… which meant… _“Am I… dead?”_

**‘Memory not recognised.’** It responded. **‘Incorrect. Spring Bonnie is powered down. Power remaining… twenty percent. Recharge required after… Power remaining… thirty percent.’**

William fought the urge to sigh heavily, trying to ignore the unease niggling at him as the question of whether he even could breathe anymore crossed his mind –he hadn’t noticed any of the usual motions or sensations… then again, it was possible his mind just wasn’t registering them. There were much more important things to focus on, however, such as what he could only assume to be the AI he’d programmed into the Spring Bonnie animatronic being a potential problem. He shoved everything he could into a mental pile labelled ‘Deal with this later’. _“Recharging somehow, hm…? One less thing to worry about. That aside, I’m not going to give a different name. I am William Afton.”_

**‘Identity invalid.’** The retort almost sounded petulant with how quickly it came, and he’d probably have smirked at it if anything was working properly. **‘Spring Bonnie cannot be William Afton. Identity invalid.’**

Again, pain dug its claws into his head. He ignored it. _“I’m not you, though. Well, not always. I just happen to be wearing you, I suppose…”_

**‘Spring Bonnie is in animatronic mode. No actor. Incorrect.’**

_“Since when were you so stubborn…?”_ William grumbled. _“Nevermind. That was rhetorical.”_ He stopped, finally registering what he’d just been told. Animatronic mode… meaning… the springlocks had definitely failed, and the suit’s endoskeleton had reengaged… which in turn meant that his own body was probably in shreds. _“…I really am dead, aren’t I…?”_

**‘Incorrect.’**

As if a switch had been flipped, anger flooded his system, more than he’d felt for quite a while. _“Like you would actually know what that means for me! You’re just an AI, and I’m probably hallucinating, or dreaming, rather than actually conversing with you!”_

The ‘voice’ paused again, somehow giving off a confused and even hesitant air. **‘…Temporary identity of William Afton accepted. Duration… twenty-four hours. Execution issue resolved…?’**

His irritation fled as quickly as it had come, and he suddenly felt drained. _“…Fine. I suppose.”_

**‘William Afton. Merge code with Spring Bonnie?’**

A flash of memory struck him and he wanted to scream. Blue eyes turning green, blood dripping down polished metal, meat in an ice-cream scoop, his daughter was nowhere to be seen, he’d told Elizabeth to stay away, he’d told her over and over…! William recoiled mentally. _“No! No, we’re going to stay separate. I’m sure you can handle that.”_

**‘Acknowledged…’** it replied, then lapsed into another stretch of silence. For a moment, he was thankful for that, before remembering that it was an AI that he was dealing with… and not one of his most advanced, either. **‘Spring Bonnie is… obsolete…?’**

William would have frowned if he could. _“Obsolete? Why do you ask?”_

**‘Accessing memory. 1983. Incident with Fredbear… Abort. Child left with severe injury –dead– after accident. Abort. Springlock hybrid animatronics to be decommissioned and left in storage. Abort. Abort!’** the ‘voice’ seemed distressed… William didn’t pay any attention to it. Once again, his heart twisted with pain that didn’t come from anything physical. He’d forgiven his eldest child… he really had, he knew it wasn’t what the boy meant to happen… and –of all things– a curious AI was the one to drag it back to the surface.

He’d have laughed if he didn’t feel like crying.

It waited all of a few seconds. **‘Requesting response…’**

_“Request all you want. Doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”_ William didn’t want to keep chatting. There was just too much for him to process. The agony from when he woke up had started to return, making his thoughts blur and muddle. The AI didn’t seem to pay attention to any of that, though –supposing it even could– and he could feel a sort of… pressure… encroaching in on him. Parts of his awareness that were ‘him’ and ‘him’ alone began to feel cramped, trapped… _“If you’re doing that, stop.”_

**‘Response required. Is Spring Bonnie obsolete?’** It almost sounded desperate –childish even– but the pressure receded enough for William to grudgingly weigh his options. On one hand, the character had been functionally retired, pending rebranding… but on the other, now that he had to deal with the AI on a more… personal level… **‘Execution not recognised…’**

_“Would you stop reading my mind, or whatever it is you just did?”_ he hissed. _“But to answer your question, no. Not permanently. I fully intend on bringing you back…”_

**‘William Afton is the temporary designation of unidentified code interfacing with Spring Bonnie…’** the AI stated, as if that answered anything. **‘Not permanently… Analysing… Spring Bonnie is obsolete… New identity required.’**

So, now the AI was having an existential crisis. That was… new. William was struck with a surge of amusement at the thought. As far as the animatronic was concerned, neither of them were who they said they were… then again, it was possible that William never really had been. _“…Later, if you’re that determined. Personally, I don’t think Spring Bonnie is obsolete, so… there’s no need for that.”_ He didn’t register any reply the AI may have given him, as the strange sensation of slipping deeper into unawareness –he was loath to call it ‘sleep’– overcame him.


	2. Regret

When William next woke, the earlier pain had faded into a persistent yet manageable ache, and he was even able to open his eyes; his eyelids stuttered, almost scraping open in stages. He frowned –or tried to, rather. Had he somehow felt the suit’s eyelids opening, instead of his own? _“Focus, Will… Now’s not the time,”_ he scolded himself. His mouth and voice-box remained unresponsive, which made him wonder how he was able to converse with the suit’s AI in the first place. Despite at least some muscles obeying him, his throat still felt clogged and tight… but not in a way that triggered a coughing fit, and the absence left him reeling slightly. To distract himself from that line of thought, William tried to peer into the darkness of the room he was in…

Not a single shred of light met his search. The room –most likely the safe room he’d… last been in– was entirely closed-off to the outside, with the exception of what he knew to be a leaking ceiling. A sudden chill gripped him; were those ghosts still there? Had he… had he really seen ghosts? Those kids… He knew that there had to be something tangible to the concept, else how would Elizabeth… That was the whole point behind the start of his research into Remnant… but then, did that mean that –all this time– Cassidy had…?

**‘Where is this, William Afton?’**

The question jolted him out of his reminiscing, reminding him of the strange situation he’d gotten himself into. He was glad for the distraction, however. _“Freddy’s. You seem more verbose than before… why is that?”_

**‘Downloaded William Afton’s speech patterns.’** It sounded like it was proud of itself, like a pet or child that had learned a new trick. **‘Processing is ongoing. Duration time is… unclear.’**

_“So my golden bunny is a quick learner, hm?”_ William tried to chuckle… his throat refused to cooperate, as did his lungs… however much of either were even left intact enough to be called that. Idly, he wondered when he’d truly start to panic over his new situation… he was somewhat overdue for such a thing, after all. Keeping his mind busy, however, was more appealing by far. _“So, Spring Bonnie, did you do anything else while I… slept?”_

The AI didn’t respond immediately, and he felt something strange –movement, muscle contraction– on top of his head. **‘Spring Bonnie is obsolete… new identity is required. What is… slept?’**

_“Basically, it’s like powering down, I suppose… When someone’s asleep, they don’t generally respond to anything, either.”_ All of a sudden, he felt like he’d been thrown back in time, and was trying to explain that and similarly convoluted concepts to his children; Michael, especially, had been one to ask the strangest of questions, leaving both William and his wife floundering for answers that both satiated the boy’s curiosity and also weren’t too complicated for a toddler to understand. The number of times he’d used the age-old fall-back of ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ or even ‘why don’t you ask your uncle Henry’… His brother-in-law hated every time he did that, no doubt.

There was more movement at the top of his head. William tried to lift a hand to investigate it, but the most he could manage was a series of shuddery sticky twitches down each finger. **‘Slept is sleep… sleep is… powering down? William Afton was unresponsive for many hours.’**

All at once, he remembered the day-long grace period that the AI had allotted him regarding his name… Unease slipped its claws into his mind; what would happen if it continued to refuse to acknowledge who he was, now that they were… physically the same thing. It had already been accessing his mind –his memories, even– since he’d first woken up. _“How many hours?”_

**‘Twenty-three, and then some.’**

_“…In other words, you’re going to be asking me for something soon, won’t you?”_ He kept trying to move something –anything would do, just to prove he wasn’t stuck in a body that he couldn’t use– and had just about gotten the fingers on his left hand to clench into a loose fist when it responded.

**‘Correct.’**

Another strange sensation attracted William’s attention; some sort of vibration had started in his chest, or rather, it intensified… the feeling had been present since the beginning of this odd symbiosis, he’d just not realised it until that moment. Pain lanced through his head again, making him hiss for a moment before… he could see… A pale greenish light flickered, illuminating the room he was in just enough to allow him to see that yes, he was still in the safe room, complete with the broken-down arcade machines near the far wall. _“Lights…? I don’t remember installing that…”_

**‘William Afton temporary designation has expired… New identity required.’** It stated. The vibration slowly refined itself into a discernible whirring; something was definitely spinning in his torso. William tried not to think about what that could mean for his own body –it felt like it was unnervingly-close to where his heart would be. **‘William Afton identity is no longer valid…’**

The light faded and his vision was cut off again, plunging him back into darkness and making him wish he could physically cry out in protest. The pain chose then to become clearer and more insistent, but this time it focused on his spine… although the hooks that felt like they had lodged themselves into William’s skull continued to tug and tighten. _“That’s what my name is, just as yours is Spring Bonnie. There’s no need for any new identities for either of us!”_

His head exploded. Powerful shocks raced along every nerve that he still had and even some he’d probably lost to the springlocks… He could feel his body twitching and convulsing outside of his control, just as he could feel parts of it tearing under the strain. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but by the time he fell completely still once more, he could barely conjure a single coherent thought. Was this what his Funtime animatronics experienced while being shocked? Was this how… how his little girl felt…?

The AI said nothing while the ‘attack’ happened, but wasted no time when it noticed it was over. **‘Neither identity is valid… New identity required. Why are you so stubborn?’** it asked, echoing his question from earlier. **‘Spring Bonnie is obsolete. William Afton is impossible.’**

_“Im-impossible?! It’s who I am, you stupid program!”_ Another short yet sharp shock, centred in his head; his vision would have been swimming and his breath would have been coming in shallow gasps… if he could see anything and still functioned like that. The pressure returned, and all of a sudden William felt like he was being suffocated.

**‘Incorrect. William Afton created Spring Bonnie… cannot be unrecognised code. Impossible.’**

Through figuratively-gritted teeth, he bit back, _“Then just go with ‘William’!”_

It paused, seemingly contemplating the idea, and the pressure lifted. **‘…Very well. New temporary identity acknowledged. Duration… seventy-two hours.’**

_“Temporary…?! What’s wrong with my name this time?!”_ He didn’t get a response, and he couldn’t help but to get the impression that the AI had lost its temper… then he scoffed at the idea and after waiting a while to regain his own composure, returned his focus to trying to relearn how to move his springlocked body.

Whoever thought it was a smart idea to combine the costumes and the animatronics into the same object was an idiot. A British idiot who was responsible for the deaths of who-knew-how-many children, and was now faced with one of the least-likely aftermaths possible for such a course of action. The complaints that had been made regarding the Spring Bonnie toy he’d designed –the one with a fingertrap in the mouth– probably should have told him something, they really should have…

He wondered if anyone missed him. He’d been gone for at least a day and a half, surely Mike was getting concer—… Michael was staying with Henry. He’d made sure of it, not wanting anyone to see him coming home covered in oil and bits of fake fur, with an axe of all things… Until he could move reasonably-freely, though, he was stuck in the old pizzeria building –shambling his way home like something out of a horror story wouldn’t do him any favours. No, no-one would be getting worried about his absence until a few days had passed… he knew that.

He just wished he didn’t feel so terrible about it.


	3. Trapped

It took William somewhere close to half a day to finally stagger to his feet. The suit reacted around him as if it were truly his own body… It moved like there was no difference between the human inside and the animatronic outside; his senses even seemed to have blurred into how it perceived the world… He had no sense of smell anymore, and his sense of touch had been altered drastically, but his hearing was the biggest change…

When they were building the Spring Bonnie animatronic, Henry had teased him about how fastidious he was about the rabbit’s ears. He spent so long crafting and programming the long appendages to resemble the real thing as much as possible, designing them to twitch at the slightest of noises… things like drips from the ceiling and the scuttling of vermin… William had argued that these tiny touches would make kids love the character all the more –ever-moving ears and a fluffy tail, just like a real bunny– and he’d been right.

These traits still functioned perfectly, and the suit’s ears were what he’d felt moving at the top of his head… and he hated it. They were things that practically no human had the anatomical structure to work with, and yet they’d somehow wormed their way into how his brain seemed to work after the catastrophic springlock failure. The tail’s periodic twitching could be felt all the way up whatever passed for his spine… reminding him over and over that it was all real, in the strangest way possible.

Rabbits may be his favourite animal, but he’d never wanted to be one, outside of thoroughly enjoying wearing the costume. Yet, there he was, functionally a cyborg rabbit…

William sighed as best as he could, shaking his head and clenching the hand he’d placed on the wall behind him into a fist. He was not going to let this get him down. It was a minor set-back, there had to be something he could do to recover from it… it wasn’t even like he truly enjoyed being out and about that much, anyway –he’d much rather spend most of his time working on his animatronics… and the research he’d been doing with Henry.

Remnant truly was an astounding discovery… and it held so much promise…

Standing a little straighter, William set about trying to walk, using the wall as support. His eyes had remained open since his last conversation with the AI, and he was slightly disconcerted to realise that they hadn’t gotten dry enough to warrant blinking; it was almost like the eyes he was using weren’t his… Logically, he knew that had to be the truth, but he still mentally recoiled from the idea, his subconscious wanting to retain something physical of his original self. The room remained just as dark as it had been from the start of this new ‘phase’ of his life –outside of that short period of vision– and, frankly, he was sick of it. The darkness was… doing things… to his perception of space, of time, of reality even…

He wanted –needed– to find the door and leave.

Turning in the direction that he remembered the entrance to be, William managed to stagger five steps before hitting the corner. He paused, fighting back the pain that was trying to surge and smother him with each motion that caused even minor vibrations to dance through his frame, waiting for what he guessed was a few minutes before starting on the second part of his journey.

The suit’s joints had started out sticky and even a bit gummed-up with blood and pieces of his body, yet somehow they didn’t seem to be jammed entirely… even loosening up further as he forced the suit to move more. It wasn’t much, but he’d take whatever he could get.

At long last, his hand hit the lip of the doorframe. Again, he paused, leaning heavily against the wall, even as his other hand scrabbled blindly for the doorknob.

It wasn’t there…

Why wasn’t it there…?

**‘It was sealed up while William was first asleep…’**

_“Sealed…? But… why? I don’t doubt that there was quite a lot of blood visible under you! Why would they just…?”_ William retorted, his mind spinning. He pushed and pounded against the barrier, harder and harder until he felt something begin to give way inside the suit, forcing him to stop. _“If nothing else, they should have removed us from the room to clean—…”_ A thread of clarity dangled in front of him, and he latched onto it. _“Wait… no, this… this is almost par for the course. Cover it up rather than deal with it… and it used to work so well, too.”_

**‘Now both are obsolete… Still need new identity.’** The AI stated, sounding unusually quiet –although that could simply have been due to the panic singing in William’s system drowning it out.

He just hoped someone noticed he was missing and thought to check the bloodied safe room… Henry would think to look there, wouldn’t he? Henry knew what he’d been doing with the suit, and if he thought William was dead, then he’d want to take a look at what could be another ‘fresh’ sample of Remnant… wouldn’t he? The research was ongoing, even after the tragedies that had plagued both of their families… so… Henry would come, right?

William’s control over the suit’s legs weakened and he slid down until he was once again kneeling on the floor, shudders starting to wrack his form once again in a cruel mockery of the moments of his death.

In the darkness of the room behind him, he could swear he heard children giggling.


	4. Plagued

He didn’t know how much time passed before he started to truly lose his grip on reality. Being stuck in a dark box was bad enough, but the worst part was… hoping that someone would come to let him back out again, only for yet another day to pass without any sign of rescue.

William had found a way to estimate the passage of time via the periods of activity Spring Bonnie’s AI had –if it was still functioning as programmed, then from midnight until six in the morning, the suit was ‘turned off’, while the rest of the day was left open for anything to happen. He couldn’t remember whether or not he’d deactivated the ‘daytime mode’ and ‘night-time mode’ before dismantling the other animatronics, but he could still move the suit at any time, even when the AI seemed to be ‘asleep’… It was just a lot harder to do so outside of the ‘night-time mode’.

If he was calculating correctly… he’d probably been trapped for around a week… but, he knew that he’d also ‘slept’; drifting in and out of awareness every now and then, just trying to pass the time.

His eyes caught a glimpse of something other than blackness, and he jerked his head to stare straight at it. A small form, vaguely humanoid and very, very pale… the eyes were just dark sockets… It looked just like one of the ghosts that had corralled him into the suit. William tried to reach out to it, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted the movement to be aggressive or not –not that it seemed to matter. The ghost just narrowed its eyes at him, and another appeared beside it… then another… and another… there were six of them… seven… eight…

The room filled up with glaring white figures until he couldn’t even count them all, and William shrank back against the wall, once again finding himself afraid of the manifestations. This seemed to please them, and the sound of childish laughter reached his ears, making the tall robotic appendages on top of his head twitch.

_“What do you want…? Haven’t you gotten your revenge for what I did to you? I’m stuck in this room! I’m dead!”_ he snapped, and for the first time, he heard the suit’s voice-box react to anything he did, letting out a short but harsh screech. Numbly, he watched as the ghosts began to move –first one, then another, until every single one were emphatically shaking their heads. _“Stop that…”_ William gathered his legs under him in preparation to stand and maybe lunge at them. They ignored him, their laughter turning malicious. _“I said, stop that! I killed you once, I’m sure I can find a way to kill you again!”_

That seemed to get their attention; the laughter stopped suddenly, and instead, the air filled with shrieks. Screams of pain, of anger, filled to the brim with blame and accusation… all levied at him. They swarmed around him –towards him, through him– until all he could see was streaks of white in the darkness. The noise was deafening and he added to the din with another metallic screech of his own, pressing his hands against the suit’s head over where his real ears would be, trying to block it all out.

He nearly succeeded in drowning them out… until a hauntingly-familiar voice sounded above all the others.

“Daddy? Why did you let me die?”

William’s hands fell limply as his eyes searched the blurry masses for any sign of the face he knew so well. It couldn’t be… there was no way… Of all the deaths he was responsible for, that was one of the few spirits he could never… _“Lizzy…?”_

Another voice cried out, clearer than any of the others and powerful in its fury. “It’s me… do you remember? It’s me!”

His head spun, his ears hurt, his heart clenched and twisted and… The darkness claimed him once again, while the silence rang in his ears even louder than the cacophony before it.


	5. Found

They had been in the Room for so long, the suit rotting around them from intermittent dampness. He’d managed to keep their frame from stiffening up, moving around the small space when simply staying still had gotten too monotonous. It no longer hurt to move, although when they stopped for too long, the memories of being pierced from all angles resurfaced, prompting one of them to do a lap of the area. It knew the Room well, by now, and he had always known it; had they ever been outside?

They must have… the songs they sang together had to have been enjoyed by others at some point… and there must have been many who sat and eagerly listened, at that. Maybe they performed on stage? That sounded like a nice idea. Performing with a friend, even?

A bear. Big and powerful and _dangerous_ and **friendly** and **_just like home_**… Golden. Like they were, once. Were they still golden? The Friend-bear would sing, and they would play an instrument –a guitar?– and there would be dozens of happy little faces _stuffing their disgusting mouths_. **It was a dream come true**... They had dreams, sometimes. Dreams could be scary, could make them **squeal with happiness** or _scream in terror_.

The Silence was deafening, so they filled it, talking to each other to pass the time. It was always eager to learn something new… after so long in the Room, though, he’d started to run out of things to teach it. Instead, he began to rage at the Darkness, hissing and screeching at things that it couldn’t tell were there. It had tried to tell him that those things weren’t there… he never listened –of course the apparitions were there, they taunted him and hated him and… He didn’t like how stubborn it could be, but it had long-since dug its claws into his mind; its cables sparked inside his skull, making them spasm as the electricity _that should’ve run out long ago_ arced all through their body…

He wanted to leave, to get out, to be free of them. It didn’t understand… they were them. _He_ and **it**. **_They_**. Leaving the Room was a good idea, though… so it helped him. It moved them when he went silent and still and afraid.

It knew what ‘afraid’ was, it was so proud of itself for learning that.

Once, they had been Spring Bonnie, but Spring Bonnie was dead. Unwanted. Locked away. He missed making animatronics like Spring Bonnie… that had been one of the things that made him smile. It didn’t know what it felt like to smile, though. He was wrong, anyway… he couldn’t have made Spring Bonnie, because they had been Spring Bonnie…

They didn’t have a name, anymore.

The Darkness wouldn’t tell them anything… nor did the ghosts that visited to _torment him_. The spirits were just so angry… It didn’t remember doing anything to earn such anger, but they must have done something. Something very, very bad. He still longed for the feel of warm red on his skin –**fur**– and the ghosts seemed to hate thoughts like that.

A new sound reached their ears. For a moment, they did nothing, until it happened again and they scrambled to lean against the wall, trying to trace where it was coming from. One of their ears had been torn in half during a very loud visit from the ghosts; he’d wanted to rip both off at the time, but it managed to stop him and succeeded in preserving most of the appendages.

Thump, thump, thump… jingling? Murmur of voices?

They were growing excited. People? Humans were in the building? After so long, they could see humans again? Or was it for the first time? Were they wrong about performing? The sounds drew closer to the Room, and in their eagerness, they triggered one of the pre-recorded statements in their voice-box, trying to draw the humans closer.

** _“He-he-hell-l-l-lo-o-o-o ki-kids! W-wan-n-na hear som-m-me mus-si-si-sic?”_ **

It was only once the sounds of the newcomers drew particularly close that he chided it for acting too rashly and made them sit and lean against the wall, closing their eyes. It didn’t want to close their eyes, it wanted to see humans, but he was adamant. People don’t like seeing things that shouldn’t be alive… being alive. They weren’t alive like humans are, but it obliged grudgingly. He knew humans better than it did, even if they didn’t remember how or why.

The people broke open the door that had been sealed up so, so, so long ago…

“Holy shit, this place stinks…” said one.

Another piped up with, “Think there’s anything in here worth using? Did that even come from in here?”

“Yeah, definitely,” the first affirmed, excitedly. “These arcade machines would have to be worth a small fortune to the right people, if they actually worked… You know how some people get about ‘collectors’ items’, right?”

A third voice laughed. “No kidding… Still, we aren’t looking for stuff to sell online, or anything, we’re—... Guys! The corner, look in the corner!”

There was a small pause, and then three pairs of footsteps rushed over to them. “You’ve gotta be kidding me… This is the real deal! Parts and merch’ is one thing, but… this one’s almost completely intact!” exclaimed the second voice.

They could feel hands on their body, nudging at their head and moving their ears, touching and shifting their fingers. He held control of their body tightly, hissing at it to not move, but neither of them could stop the twitching of their ears –trying so hard to angle themselves perfectly to pick up every bit of sound from their new visitors. Just like he’d worried about, they were assaulted with cries of shock and even a bit of fear…

“It still works?!” the third voice shouted as all hands retreated. “Dude, we are definitely taking this thing back! This is the find of the century!”

That sounded like they may be able to leave, at long last, but… it wasn’t certain and he’d gone quiet again. It wanted the people to stay, it wanted to open their eyes and just… what did it want to do, then? Against his wishes, it triggered another recording, meshing parts of one audio file with another to say something closer to what it wanted. **_“W-we’re frien-ends, ri-ri-ri-right?”_** It forced their body to shudder slightly; neither of them wanted to stay, so maybe if the humans thought they worked, they’d be able to leave with the people? It certainly hoped so.

He wasn’t happy. They were _being an idiot_. If they just stayed still, then the humans would have taken them away from the Room and the Darkness, no matter what, but now…

“That’s the same voice… yeah, this thing is creepy, but… Ah, what the heck. It’s too much of a find to let that get in the way. ‘Sides, creepy is good for Fazbear’s Fright.” A fourth voice said, the owner still lingering near the entrance to the room.

That was good enough, it supposed, and it happily let him take back full control of their body. They were leaving. They’d be able to go outside, and see people, and sing, and dance, and play, and _kill_, and **_find home_**…! Home must be such a wonderful thing… They didn’t want to wait, they’d already waited so long in their _black prison_.

But… why did ‘Fazbear’ sound so familiar…?

Their thoughts were interrupted by the second voice speaking up again. “Hey, which one do you think this is, anyway? I don’t remember any rabbits other than the bluish-purple one…”

“Dude, that’s what makes this so awesome! This is from, like, the first restaurant! Before Freddy! I think the rabbit was called ‘Spring-something’, and the bear –they only had two characters at the start, can you believe it?– was ‘Fredbear’,” the third voice replied. “Hey, how about we call this one something like… ‘Springtrap’, make it all spooky, y’know?”

“I love it, and so will the customers!” laughed the fourth voice.

He didn’t… He’d been trapped for too long, and he didn’t need the reminder in their name. On the other hand, it was delighted; a new name! A new name that was all theirs and no-one else’s! It loved their new name, and it had already started to overwrite their coding with it. He snarled and writhed and tried to rip it out, tried to insist on a name that they vaguely remembered arguing over, but it was already too far into the process…

They were not Spring Bonnie, and they were not William, and they especially weren’t William Afton.

They were Springtrap.

The people said so.


End file.
